"Why was I not made aware of it sooner?" Palladin demanded sternly. "You, Braanol! You knew of it?" "Yes, your majesty." I was frightened. "I beg to explain--I have tried to dissuade him--" Palladin's visage became less stern, as though he understood our reluctance in this matter. "True," he said. "Thid is my brother. He must be mad! And I tell you now: if he has gone as far in this experiment as I suspect, I shall not hesitate to apply the only remedy dictated by efficiency--death! Have him brought to me at once." But Thid was nowhere to be found. He had learned of Palladin's anger, and had fled into the Diskran desert where the abhorred _Termans_ dwelt in myriads despite all our effort to eradicate them. These Termans were soft-bodied, subterranean creatures with an obstinate life-force, and we had long realized that they might one day be a menace to us. So into the desert our Thid fled, spurred by the knowledge that his life was forfeit. For a time, he was naturally thought dead. Who could survive unprotected the extremes of heat and cold? And if by a miracle he triumphed over the elements, how survive the appalling enmity of the Termans, whose rudimentary brains conceived no mercy? Nevertheless, startling bits of rumor began to drift in to our city; rumors that Thid had been seen, _leading hordes of gigantic Termans across the desert wastes_! We laughed, of course, for caravaneers are ever the prey of sun mirages, and legends are dear to their souls. A legend was begun concerning Thid. Arriving caravans vied with each other in fantastic reports. Some had seen him with immense hordes of the repulsive Termans. Still others had discovered subterranean labyrinths being built by the Termans under his command, and had barely escaped with their lives. And still we laughed, blessed by the constant climate on the shores of our sea, and the beneficent rule of our Exalted Palladin. And then we ceased to laugh. Palladin called together his Council of Scientists. "Can it be?" Palladin asked. "Two whole caravans have vanished on the way to Estka beyond the mountains." And he told us more, reports that had arrived from other cities. Survivors had arrived, with the light of madness in their eyes, babbling some nameless fear. Others had died from ghastly wounds--great burns that refused to heal, but spread a kind of disease through the tissues. I, Braanol, examined some of these wounds and reported to Palladin. "Only a perverted, scientific intellect such as Thid's could have evolved weapons to inflict such wounds!" "If he has organized the Termans," suggested another Council Member, "despite their pigmy size, they will become a menace that cannot be ignored." "We have delayed too long!" thundered Palladin. "Find Thid! I command it!" * * * * *